


Just A Feeling

by Laily



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Bisexual Stephen Strange, Canon-Typical Violence, Established Relationship, F/M, Genderfluid Loki (Marvel), Hurt Stephen Strange, Internalised Racism, Intersex Loki (Marvel), Jotunn Loki (Marvel), Loki (Marvel) Needs a Hug, Love Triangles, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Protective Thor (Marvel), Romance, Shapeshifter Loki (Marvel)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-30
Updated: 2021-01-10
Packaged: 2021-03-11 05:07:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28429770
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laily/pseuds/Laily
Summary: A fight for Stephen's heart is a fight to the death. Literally.
Relationships: Loki & Thor (Marvel), Loki & Tony Stark, Loki/Stephen Strange, Past Christine Palmer/Stephen Strange, Pepper Potts/Tony Stark, Tony Stark/Stephen Strange
Comments: 50
Kudos: 61





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Arabesqueangel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arabesqueangel/gifts).



> I promised Arabesqueangel this ages ago, so consider this a very late, or very early birthday gift, Angel!

Stephen had become distant.

Yes, Loki had been called a catastrophist before. No, he was not making things up. 

Stephen was pulling away, slowly but surely. 

Maybe Loki had spent far too long lost in the false comfort of denial. On lazier days, he had even willingly and repeatedly succumbed to the trap of lies his pride laid out for him, that he and Doctor Stephen Strange were nothing but friends with benefits, but in order to call themselves that, they would first have to be friends...right?

He knew the parade would end one day, but he did not expect for that day to come so soon.

“You remind me of someone,” Stephen had once said to him.

Loki had then said, “Someone interesting, I hope.”

“My old partner.”

Still floating on a cloud of post-coital rapture, could anyone really blame Loki for what he said next? “Oh. Well I suppose one should be flattered.”

Would Loki have said that if he had known at the time that Stephen was talking about none other than Tony Stark? _The_ Tony Stark?

Stephen must have seen his face change, or felt the bed go cold, tipping on the side of freezing, for he had then promptly showered Loki with kisses with a frantic ferocity, his first in a series of offensives to retain his special place in Loki's heart, Loki's _life_.

That was the moment when Loki realised he was too far gone, that this was beyond benefits, beyond friendly. 

He had fallen in love. 

The past couple of weeks of radio silence had been the loneliest, longest Loki had endured. Aimlessly drifting from one hallway to another, he was attracting more attention than he would have liked, waiting for the return of the ravens come evening. 

Stephen was the Sorcerer Supreme. He belonged to the people of Earth. He was not Loki’s. 

But a tiny part of him still harbored hope, and Loki hated himself for it. Had it not been for Thor and all that they had rebuilt here in New Asgard and what that represented, he would have no qualm about taking a knife to his heart to dig it out. 

It was always the tiniest splinter that was the hardest to remove. 

________________________

The next day, Loki decided he should stop swanning around the palace like a jilted apparition and actually do something about his misgivings, if only to put his suspicions to rest. 

A tiny voice in his head kept telling him no, don't do it - and it was right to, whoever it was. Stephen was an honorable man. 

But as luck and destiny would have it, Loki was neither honorable nor a man. 

Just as the moon bloomed full and majestic in the heart of Asgard's midnight sky, the sun was just setting in New York City. Loki turned himself into an eagle owl for its keen eyes and ruffled wings, soundless and all-seeing.

Stealthily it settled itself on one of the Sanctum's gutter guards. 

Was he really doing this? 

Stephen's kind, gentle face flashed through the owl's mind. _Do you trust me?_

 _I do,_ bona fide Loki echoed his once-answer, given one nondescript night in happier times. 

The doubt was like a virus, infecting every memory cell, even in this form. 

A sudden, rapping sound jolted the night predator out of its reverie. It looked down. 

Someone was knocking on the front door of 177A Bleecker Street. 

The Sanctum was shrouded in an invisibility spell, no one should be able to find it unless he was specifically looking for it...so who - ?

Loki flew lower, landing on one of the branches far enough from the Sanctum's reach to escape notice, but close enough to see who it was at the door.

_Tony...Stark?_

He would recognise the well-dressed, dark-haired man anywhere. Who else would wear sunglasses in the dark like he was some kind of celebrity?

Loki's tiny heart began to pound wildly. 

In the blink of an eye, Tony was gone; whoever was inside must have allowed him entry. 

Loki flew from window to window, searching for any sign of the man. 

He almost fell off the ledge when he nearly came face-to-face with the very familiar figure of Stephen Strange. 

Loki could not believe his luck; Stephen had his back to the window or he would have caught Loki spying red-handed. 

But when he finally calmed down enough to right his precarious perch on the window, the heavy sense of foreboding returned at the sight of Tony Stark, who was standing at the door of the Sanctum's drawing room.

Stephen had clearly been expecting him; as Tony waltzed into the room, Stephen peeled himself away from the window to meet his friend and former lover halfway. 

There was no exchange of words Loki could see; only a knowing look passed between them before the two men fell into each other's arms. 

Loki watched, as the embrace stretched into seconds, longer than any platonic gesture of affection should be. 

He watched as Tony cupped the sides of Stephen's face and pulled it down to touch their foreheads together. Loki could not see Stephen's face from where he was sitting, but he could only assume Stephen was wearing the same emotional expression on his face. 

The owl closed its eyes. If the two humans were to share a kiss, it did not want to know. 

Curiousity killed, indiscriminately. 

When Loki opened his eyes after a short eternity, Stephen and Tony had parted but kept each other within an arm's length. Their lips were moving at a rapid pace, but still perceptibly enough for Loki to read. 

_"We should tell him. Loki needs to know."_

Stephen shook his head vehemently. _"No,"_ his lips could not be saying anything else; even a blind person could see it, _"Loki must not know."_

Stephen reached out and grabbed the front of Tony's shirt. _"You will not tell him."_

Loki's vision began to blur. Either the spell was fading or he was about to faint, but either way, he needed to _leave_.

He looked up at the moon, the same moon that was shining over New Asgard at this very moment, had just made itself known in the midst of the busy Manhattan skyline. 

Home, Loki thought numbly. He needed to go home.

______________________

He found Thor sitting out on the verandah adjoining their bedrooms, watching the moon. 

"Can't sleep?" Thor asked. 

Despite his heavy footfalls, Loki's feet padded soundlessly across the tiles. He sat in the patio chair next to his brother. 

"I could ask you the same question."

Thor shrugged. "It's a hot summer night. Doesn't feel all that late to me."

Loki hummed noncommittally. Thor knew better than to admit he had been waiting for his little brother to come home. 

"Didn't expect you home tonight." 

Or maybe Thor could not contain his curiousity either.

Loki sighed, and said nothing.

Something was clearly bothering Loki, but Thor had grown more perspicacious over the years and he prided himself on knowing when to speak and when to keep his mouth shut.

"Iced tea?" Thor offered. 

"Sure," Loki said glumly. Finally, "You needn't have waited up for me."

"Would be easier if you had a phone. We could text each other."

"Yeah...no."

“It really is a marvelous invention. Here, let me show you."

To prove his point, Thor dug into his back pocket and fished out his cell phone, the latest iStark with the most advanced retina display and cameras and OS in the market, whatever that meant. 

“Yes, Thor.” Loki had heard it a hundred times already. “I am still not getting one.”

“And there are these things called filters that can do wondrous things to your face." Thor slid a finger excitedly across the screen. "There’s this one called Face Swap and it can – ”

“Let me guess. Put my face over yours, and yours over mine?” Loki said dryly. 

“Exactly. It’s hilarious. Come on, let us take a picture together.”

Loki ducked before Thor could engulf him in a bear hug but his eagle eyes caught sight of something and automatically his own arm snaked out to grab Thor’s wrist. 

So taken aback was Thor, he nearly dropped the phone; it would have smashed onto the ground had Loki’s inhuman reflexes not caught it before it could. 

Loki stared at the screen, unwilling to believe his eyes. 

His heart, only just calmed from the flight home, began to pound once again in his chest. Could it be the product of one of those filters Thor was talking about?

“When was this picture taken?” He heard someone say. He waited for an answer but it was taking its time. 

It was only when Thor peered into his face that he realised he had asked the forbidden question himself. A question, the answer to which he must have already known, deep down in his heart of hearts.

“Last weekend. The gang got together after the event for drinks – the charity event you politely declined to be part of, remember?” There was an undercurrent of mild panic in Thor’s voice, almost as if he was expecting Loki to throw a tantrum. 

“I remember,” Loki whispered dimly. 

Of course he did. It was the day he had been looking forward to spending some time alone with Stephen after so many weeks apart, had even specifically cleared his schedule just in case Stephen had something special planned – only for Stephen to drop the bomb on him at the very last minute, citing an emergency that needed to be attended to.

 _Some emergency_.

Loki’s eyes smarted at the sight of Tony Stark’s arm slung so casually around his boyfriend’s shoulders. _His_ boyfriend.

“Loki, what’s wrong?” Thor demanded anxiously. “You look like you’re about to explode. Or faint.”

“Nothing. It’s nothing.” 

“No, no, no…” Thor moaned. “What is this?”

_What?_

Rough fingers scoured his face free of something Loki could scarcely feel.

“Dust in my eyes, that’s all.”

“And I’m helping you get it out, that’s all.” Thor sounded almost breathless in his quest to get it all, to not let a single tear get farther beyond the hollow of Loki’s cheek. “Anyone who hurts you, I do not forgive.” 

Loki heard and felt the weight of Thor’s promise in the rawness of his voice. "You are worth too much."

Realising he was still holding on to Thor’s cell phone like a lifeline, he lifted it to the level of his eye. He tried his best to block Tony out but no matter how he tried, he could not unsee what he had unconsciously imprinted in his mind’s eye. 

Loki touched Stephen’s image with the tips of his fingers. “And yet I felt wealthy with my bag of fool’s gold.”

Tears were filling up his eyes once again and Stephen’s image blurred. He abruptly pressed the abominable object back in Thor’s hand. 

Loki closed his eyes, but the embrace Tony and Stephen shared only became tighter the more he played it out in his head. 

What was he thinking, seeking solitude here, thousands of miles away from where he longed to be? 

_It's not your place anymore, is it?_

Was this how Thor felt, when he had to give up Jane Foster all those years ago?

They sat outside on the patio for a while, not speaking, each lost in the maze in his own thoughts. 

They sat until the murderous look in Thor's eyes disappeared, giving way to grief. 

"I am alright, Thor," Loki said bravely. 

"No, you're not."

"I will be," Loki tried to say, but the words would not come. He was finding it harder and harder to lie to Thor nowadays. So he resorted to lying to the only person left in the world he could still deceive: himself. 

"I'm sure it's all a great misunderstanding."

Thor stared into the depth of his tea, murky and morose. "Sure."


	2. Chapter 2

_Sanctum Sanctorum, not too long ago_.

“Rough day?”

“Like you won’t believe,” Stephen said tiredly. He lifted his arms so Loki could get to the knot at his back.

He still found it embarrassing to subject himself to such intimate ministrations, but knowing the internal hurdles Loki must have weathered to get to this point in their relationship, indulging Loki his unpredictable whims was the least Stephen could do.

Besides, no one could untie sashes quite as provocatively as Loki. The swaddles of silk fell to the floor, and hands as cold as ice began tugging at his neckline, parting his tunic.

An accidental brush against the Eye of Agamotto sent a whiff of magic that highlighted the green of Loki’s eyes.

Never had Stephen seen a creature more exquisite, more beautiful.

But the bone-deep lethargy and the faint nausea that had been plaguing Stephen all day had him crawling into bed and wanting nothing but to sleep, yet he couldn't leave Loki standing in the middle of the room like a fool. 

He swallowed the acid rising from his stomach, an unpleasant by-product of skipping too many meals, and too much of too-frequent spellcasting. A few seconds later, after gathering just enough willpower to move, he pushed himself up only for Loki to push him back down again. 

How Loki’s long, lissome body could fit his so perfectly, Stephen would never know.

"You're tired. Shall i take care of you, Doctor?” Loki's sultry voice resonated in his weary soul like a crisp, cold Rosé in the height of summer, his teeth sharp as they freed Stephen's briefs with a sharper tug. 

Loki gave Stephen’s glans a chaste kiss before running the exquisitely sensitive tip over the edge of his lower teeth.

Stephen's head, hazy and clear at the same time, told him that this could only be a dream, but the stirring in his groin was too vivid to merely be a product of his imagination.

Loki once said he could taste Stephen's precum like how some people could taste colours. That was how he knew Stephen was special, he said. 

Before Stephen could ask what flavour it was tonight, Loki did the unimaginable and began kneading his glans penis with his tongue, alternating between delightfully teasing and endearingly determined strokes. 

“What’s our safe word for tonight?”

A mischievous grin. “We don’t need one.”

But I might, he thought crazily as he watched Loki’s raven head disappear somewhere down south. A split-second later, his world came to a complete stop when Loki gathered him in his mouth with those sweet, practiced lips of his, and Stephen lost all control. 

“Loki…” His fingers, tremulous in the throes of ecstasy, scoured the air blindly and grabbed a fistful of curls, but just as Loki’s tongue was surprising him with all the things Stephen didn’t know it could do, Loki’s hair felt different too. It was longer, silkier - definitely more of it for Stephen to bury his face in later.

Stephen’s other hand lashed out to grasp the hollow of Loki’s cheek, thumbing it as it retracted and bulged periodically as he sucked. Loki deepthroating him was a very, very rare occurrence and Stephen wondered what he had done to deserve this so he could catalogue it for future refe -

He gasped before he could finish the line of thought because the warmth of Loki’s mouth was suddenly displaced by a biting cold that had his testicles retracting into the depth of his groin.

Pain of the sweetest kind blossomed in the pit of his abdomen and as if Loki could sense it, a gentle hand reached up to swirl spirals over Stephen’s quivering belly.

"Shhh. Relax," Loki mumbled through a mouthful of balls and cock.

_But those lips, oh, those lips!_

God have mercy, Stephen whimpered. “Loki…”

“Yes?” A voice teased. It sounded nothing like Loki but at the same time could not be anyone else’s.

There was a new coldness down in his nether region too with the sudden release of the mind-numbing hold Loki had on him, presumably to speak; how could one speak when one’s mouth was full of balls, but this was Loki they were talking about, the most powerful sorcerer in all the Nine, so telepathy was not all that far-fetched. Or was it?

Stephen opened his eyes to ascertain the owner of such sweet, melodious voice. An ethereal vision he had never seen before loomed before him, a goddess in every sense of the word. 

“Strawberries,” the vision whispered huskily, licking specks of precum off lips as red as blood.

In her female form, Loki’s wavy hair had magically transformed into a messy bed of curls and ringlets that cascaded down her back. It fell over her shoulders in a shiny tumble and was now trailing the length of Stephen’s chest back and forth as she began to ride him slowly. 

“Yeah?” Stephen said breathlessly.

“Goes very well with vanilla,” the Goddess of Mischief said with a salacious grin.

The deceptive leanness of her milk-white thighs as they straddled his sides with a strength that had him pinned had him reaching out to touch.

He must feel Loki for himself, to make sure he was not still dreaming, that this was not one of Nightmare’s cruel, cruel tricks. 

No, this was all Loki, one of his (or was it her, now?) many, many faces. 

Gone were the sharp edges of Loki’s familiar, minimalist hips; now holding this exquisite creature aloft as she slowly guided his erection toward the honey pot between her thighs, Stephen could scarcely believe his good fortune. As partners and lovers went, each one he had ever had was stellar and unique in their own way, but this...this was transcendental. 

This he had never come across in books.

He had studied a great many books on Norse mythology ever since welcoming Loki into his life. He was privy to all sorts of literary work lost to time and heinous acts of destruction throughout the centuries, a rich repository of works only available to him by virtue of his position as the Sorcerer Supreme, the Keeper of Time itself.

Eidetic memory aside, not once had any writer, dead or alive, painted Loki in such an alluring picture. 

Perhaps the scholars who had transcribed such fantastical stories of Loki had omitted this part, for no words could describe her beauty, this voluptuous paragon of femininity.

“Wait, wait - ” Stephen lifted his head off the bed a fraction as he remembered something very, very crucial. He gripped her slender hips to stop her rocking. “Loki, wait.”

Loki had always been slim, but in this form, she was tiny; Stephen’s thumbs could almost meet in the middle.

Being the clinically tactile person that he was, he caressed her mons pubis gently, wishing he could see what treasure lay underneath. 

Now this part, Stephen had come across in many, many texts. Loki may have never spoken of his children before, but Stephen did not doubt that they once, or still, existed. 

“Shouldn't we be using...you know…” Stephen’s eyes roamed the rosy flush of Loki’s perfect face. “Protection?”

Loki’s lips pursed, a rosette of scarlet against the soft pink of her nipples, all equally proud. An elegant eyebrow quirked upward. “What against?”

Stephen’s eyes sombred. “You know what.”

A veil fell over Loki's face, hiding her cognac eyes under a shroud of mystery and pheromones that rendered her facial expression unreadable. 

It lifted quickly and the imperceptible lines smoothened. "It's just sex, Stephen."

"Oh." Something akin to relief loosened the tightness wound in Stephen's muscles and his grip on Loki eased. "That's okay, then."

A different emotion entirely washed over Loki, too complex to be called disappointment, too bitter to be anything but.

It made her want to scream, draw blood if necessary; anything to unleash this cold fury inside her.

Instead, she smiled, and lowered herself down. "I want to make you holler."

Killing things and fucking them, there was a time when Loki of Asgard could not tell the difference.

 _Why?_

Was her form so repulsive?

Loki had seen pictures of Stephen's other (former?) lover, a feisty but sweet redhead who went by the sweeter name of Doctor Christine Palmer. 

Was that why Stephen was closing his eyes? Was he imagining _her?_

Was it really so bad, the notion of having offspring together? 

_You're an abomination of nature._

What was he thinking, showing Stephen Strange this form? Hermaphrodites on earth were invariably invertebrates.

(spineless)

Worms, flukes, snails, slugs -

 _Parasites_.

This was a mistake, Loki thought dimly as she rode him harder than ever, even as tears masquerading as perspiration ran down her face and fell on Stephen's beautiful face in droplets.

To have such beauty passed on to a monstrous child was an act of unthinkable cruelty, a trespass on the laws of nature.

How then, could Loki ever show Stephen her other, other face? Her true face, the one she was born with? 

_An abomination._

"It's just sex...just..." Loki chanted, her breaths harsh and gasping as she ground herself harder and deeper into Stephen's pulsating erection. He was close, but she was nowhere near. Clearly she was going to have to fake it, a task both formidable and manageable. 

Loki had never had to fake it in her male form. Stephen wouldn't know if she faked it in this one. 

"It's just sex," she sobbed quietly, rocking faster and faster, reaching a crescendo that culminated in Stephen's entire body rigoring as he emptied himself in her with a rapturous cry. 

She did not realise she was still chanting in her Asgardian tongue, until the touch of Stephen's fingers on her face, coarse and grounding, brought her around like a douse of icy water.

"What's that?" Stephen asked tenderly. 

Caught off-guard with her own limbs trembling from an orgasm she would deny to her death, Loki could think of nothing to say but the biggest, most truthful lie that ever passed her lips. 

"I love you."

What did it matter? She had no dignity left. There was nothing Stephen could say that could break her more than her own self-hatred already did. 

Knowing Stephen, he would let her down gently, definitely.

'Thank you', he would probably say. Or he could pull a Han Solo, his fictional childhood hero with his egotistic 'I know.'

She collapsed on his chest and snaked her arms around his back. It did not matter what his response was going to be. 

If she had to ask for it, she did not think she wanted it anymore. 

"I love you too," he whispered in her ear just as she drifted off.

"Doesn't count," she murmured, and closed her eyes. 

  
  


_New Asgard, Present Time_

Never go to bed angry, someone once said. It could have been from Frigga or Thor, the well-meaning but stupid advice. Sleep had never come easy to him, and therefore, his emotional state was irrelevant. 

What was a necessity for other beings, sleep was a luxury Loki coveted, not only for its scarcity, but for how easy it seemed to come to everyone else. 

Stephen needed only lay his head down on the pillow and bam! He was out like a light _._

_Are you sleeping?_

Loki stared at the stiff curvature of Stephen's back. _Or are you only pretending to be?_

After his feathery excursion and the draining tete-a-tete with Thor the night before, Loki had been exhausted to the point of restlessness. His mind outraced his weary limbs at every turn, jolting him awake like a severe case of sleep paralysis. 

It was not the first time sleeplessness had kept him awake all night, of course. In fact, Thor had once attributed Loki's baltic disposition to his chronic insomnia. 

Except, when one had lived as long as he, chronic tended to lose its meaning. It had become more of a state of being, than a disorder. A disorder implied that something was remediable. 

When he began seeing shadows in the dark, Loki did not think twice about throwing bolts of seidr at the intruders.

If they had been figments of his imagination, he needed only to fix his walls (nothing could fix his mind at this point). If they had been demons or stuff of nightmare brought to life, then...well, they would be dead. No one accosted Loki of Asgard so brazenly in his own bedroom. No one except

"Stephen," he called quietly. 

Loki was at a disadvantage for he could not see Stephen's eyes, but the curve of the tanned shoulder remained stiff as it rose and fell with each breath, deep in sleep. 

"I need you, Loki," Stephen's broken voice echoed in the acoustics of his mind, reverberating like a broken record.

Seeing him standing there, as pale as moonlight on snow, something in Loki gave. 

Instead of striking Stephen where he stood or bombarding him with questions about what Loki had seen with his passerine eyes in New York City mere hours ago, Loki had stupidly, foolishly, _absurdly,_ pulled Stephen by the hand and into his bed. 

The physical proximity soothed the beast in Loki somewhat, the bed made warmer by Stephen's familiar heat and scent. 

Weak, he screamed at himself over and over as he moaned into Stephen's kisses, each more forceful than the one before, like Stephen meant to wash away a bad taste in his mouth

_or guilt_

The sex, had been more or less the same, if not over a little too quickly. 

I’m tired, Stephen had said with an apologetic smile that did not quite reach his eyes. 

Come to think of it, Stephen had been tired that night too, on the night Loki had let his guard down and shown his lover his other skin. 

Stephen had not said no to Loki; he was too kind, then and always. 

Had Tony Stark asked for it, and Stephen had no choice but to extend the same kindness? 

It was not unheard of, casual sex between former lovers. For old times' sake, as the Midgardians were fond of saying.

Maybe they had wanted to relive the good moments. Or maybe Stephen had asked for it, and Tony Stark had said no, finally remembering the lovely Lady Pepper waiting for him back at their multi-million dollar mansion.

Tony wanted Stephen to come clean, didn't he? He had practically demanded Stephen to tell Loki about - 

_About what?_

"Wake up," he commanded silently. "Wake up, damn you."

Stephen suddenly turned to lie on his back, and Loki froze, his heart in his throat, terrified that he had said the words out loud when he did not mean them 

(he was still not ready, he would never be ready)

But Stephen did not wake; he only let out a low, strangled moan of one not ready to face the day and flung an arm over his eyes. 

Loki stared at the muscular torso he had explored in dream and in wake a thousand times before. He did not remember ever seeing Stephen's ribs stand out so prominently, his stomach so hollow. 

The Sorcerer Supreme had always carried the weight of the world on their shoulders. They did not need the cumber of emotions getting in the way of what little pleasures they could get out of their life, be it long or short. It was a wretched enough existence as it was, and coming from Loki, that was saying plenty. 

There were thousands of ways one could say goodbye, on the spectrum of cruelty, ranging from insensitively brusque to ineffectively kind.

 _Would you tell me like that?_ Loki asked silently _. ‘I’m tired?’_

"I love you," Stephen had said again, last night. He sounded so sincere Loki had almost believed him. 

Loki would have believed him, had Stephen not looked as emotional as Tony Stark had looked, holding the very face Loki knew he would spend the entire night studying every inch of. Unlike Stephen, he did not have an eidetic memory. 

Unlike Stephen, Loki's lifespan was leaps and bounds longer, and he would, one day, like to look back to this moment, and raise a toast to ~~one of~~ the greatest love of his life. For old times' sake. 

Loki rose silently and walked out onto the balcony. His eyes fell on Thor's unfinished drink on the table, still uncleared from last night...and on the drops of blood he must have overlooked. 

_"You will not speak of this to anyone, Thor. Not to Stephen, not to Stark - " he refused to look at Thor. "Anyone."_

_"Brother," Thor sounded as wrecked as Loki felt. "I cannot promise to turn a blind eye to your suffering."_

_"Promise me, Thor."_

_"Stark...I fight alongside him. How could he - ?" Thor's glass cracked in his grip._

Thor had surrendered to his ministrations as Loki cursed loudly with each shard of glass he had had to remove, but refused Loki's offer to heal his cuts. 

_"This pain is nothing compared to what I am seeing in your eyes, Brother."_

And Loki had watched Thor disappear into his chambers, his Herculean stature diminished in his cocoon of defeat.

With Stephen still sleeping inside and his brother's blood, dried and crusted on the floor, there was only one thing left to do. 

It was time to pay Tony Stark a visit. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the comments and kudos, guys. They set me on fire! Happy New Year, may 2021 treat us kindly, Amen.


	3. Chapter 3

Loki’s intention to slip away unnoticed fell through when his attempt to tiptoe around the bed resulted in an expedient greeting from the human burrito on the bed.

“Are you going somewhere?” The shock of hair spoke. 

“Yes,” Loki replied shortly. He braced himself, but what came next was as surprising as it was silent. Grey-blue eyes stared at him, bloodshot but clearly sober. 

“You are not going to ask me where?” Loki turned his head a fraction so as to do Stephen the courtesy of pretending to look at him should Stephen wish to engage in conversation. 

Stephen continued to gaze at the stiff curvature of Loki’s back. 

“I doubt that I will get an answer,” he finally answered.

“Huh.” Loki feigned surprise, keeping in mind to keep it mild. Overplaying his hand would be a foolish thing to do, considering the lack of evidence suggesting he even had one. “And here I thought it was to obviate my asking you one in return.”

“Now that would be wishful thinking, wouldn’t it?” Stephen asked. 

A long moment of silence ensued.

“I was just...going to the bathroom,” Loki mumbled.

“In your battle armor?” 

“When one needs to go, one needs to go.”

To be(lieve in the lie) or not to believe, that was the question. 

“Wherever you’re going, it seems important,” Stephen said gently.

He eyed the tea service trolley upon which the cloche covering Loki's breakfast sat untouched. "You have not taken your morning tea."

Loki followed the line of Stephen's gaze but drew his eyes away quickly. The mere thought of food nauseated him, almost as much as the caring tone of Stephen's voice. 

"Were you out last night?"

"No." Stephen turned onto his side and squashed a pillow with his cheek. "I was home all day."

"And yet you sought comfort at the end of it...here."

Stephen did not answer immediately, despite knowing full well the weight of Loki's loaded statement.

"Forgive me if I am being overfamiliar. I had not heard from you in weeks. Perhaps I had become accustomed to the silence of my own company," Loki said.

Stephen's face spasmed and Loki had to wonder if his tone had been as neutral as he had intended it to be; false apology aside, Loki felt a momentary sense of satisfaction. If Stephen had taken it as a personal affront, it was his choice, not Loki's.

"You came to me in such a state," Loki said lightly. "I have never seen you so...inebriated."

_(I need you, Loki)_

Loki would know. He was the one who held the cold compress to Stephen's forehead after he had finished being sick the first time. Loki was also the one who had held the bucket under Stephen's head all the other times when he could not get to the bathroom in time. 

Was that all Loki was? A nursemaid? A second fiddle? 

He did not know which was worse...only that he could not bear the thought of being either one when he could be more. If Stephen thought Loki was new to this game, he had another think coming. 

"You were with someone, before you came to me."

The bait may be coarse, but the betrayal in the core of Loki's voice was real. "I could smell her on you." 

He was not above playing the victim, but he would rather slit his own throat than be the one to bring Tony Stark's name into the open.

"I was with a friend, yes." 

Stephen paused long enough he almost had Loki convinced that that was all Loki was going to get, but Stephen surprised him by going one step further, all but cutting the legs from under him.

"Tony Stark."

Loki's heart skipped a beat.

"Did you sleep with him?"

Stephen blanched. "How can you ask me that?"

"Surprisingly, quite easily," Loki said, voice soft but for the acid on his tongue. "Did you sleep with him?"

"No!" 

"Don't lie to me, Stephen," Loki said. "You are the only person who has never lied to me."

"I am not. Lying," Stephen ground out through gritted teeth, face pale against red-rimmed eyes. 

So it must have been Tony Stark's rejection that had driven him into Loki's arms last night, and the reason why Stephen had looked so wretched, like his entire world had collapsed on him.

With that conclusion in mind, Loki found himself reeling; he scarcely felt the grip around his elbow, barely heard Stephen's urgent, placatory 'I love you' -

If there was one thing his family had taught him, it was that lying and loving meant the same. 

How many times had Tony Stark heard the same words from those very lips? Blinded by love, Loki had stupidly traded his amour propre for complacency. 

"I don't believe you."

Stephen's lips thinned to a tight line. "What can I say to convince you?"

Loki imagined clasping his hands to the sides of Stephen’s head and helping himself to the smorgasboard of memories, bitter and sweet alike. He couldn't think of one reason why he shouldn't. 

_Is this it? Is this the point of no return?_

"What did he want with you?" Loki's heart twisted in pain. "Did he want you back?" 

_Do_ _you want him back?_

"He was looking for some medical advice. For a friend."

"You are telling me the owner of one of the biggest hospitals in New York City came to you for advice instead of his own team of doctors?"

"Yes," Stephen said tightly. "I was considered to be the best in my field. Still am."

“Is that the best you can come up with?" Loki asked dimly.

“Honestly, Loki.” Stephen sighed, rubbing a weary hand across his face. “Can we do this some other time?”

“Time,” Loki echoed, hollow and broken. 

His outer façade of control did little good as his hand began to shake, for never had such a vapid, meaningless word stoked such fury within him.

He was a creature of patience. Time was a commodity no more precious to him than the earth under his feet. But for humans with their truncated life spans...and to hear it from the Keeper of Time himself?

Stephen had no intention whatsoever to indulge him his childish _whim_ , and Loki would not stand for this insult any longer. 

“Fine. Don’t tell me.” 

For some inexplicable reason, Loki’s eyes began to fill. So Stephen Strange had plenty of time for Tony Stark, but none for him. “In fact, don’t talk to me.”

“Loki…” Stephen was still staring at the floor, rubbing his forehead as if to stifle a particularly annoying headache. 

_That’s all you are, Loki. A headache._

“I have rung the servants to bring you your breakfast. Do enjoy it in peace.” 

__________________

"Bambi!" 

If Tony was surprised to see him, he did not show it. He appeared as nonchalant as he did the first time Loki set eyes on him all those years ago.

_(Would you like a drink?)_

The glass doors closed behind him silently, as silent as Loki's own footsteps as he made his way toward the bar where the dark-haired billionaire was nursing a drink. 

"Fancy a nightcap?" 

Where it had been morning in New Asgard, it was past midnight here in New York, but Tony was as bright-eyed and bushy-tailed as always.

Either Tony was expecting him, or he had gotten so used to all sorts of characters dropping in on him unannounced at all sorts of hours that nothing fazed him anymore.

"Sleepless, Stark?"

"Sleeping is for losers." Tony shook his head slowly. "No...I'm just restless."

Tony took another sip of the unindentified drink. It was the colour of morning urine and it turned Loki's stomach.

"Something keeping you awake then?" 

"What do you want, Loki?"

Receiving only silence, Tony finally placed his shot glass on the counter. 

"It's kinda late for a tête-à-tête. And I'm a little old for slumber parties," Tony said, eyeing Loki's full battle get-up. "But for future reference, we Midgardians prefer pajamas." 

"Shall I activate the emergency protocol, Boss?" FRIDAY asked in his ear.

"No need," Tony mumbled under his breath. His sharp eyes followed Loki as the Asgardian paced the floor like a caged animal. "Not yet."

Loki walked over to where a scaled replica of what appeared to be an estate sat in a glass display case.

"Nice house," Loki said mildly.

"You like it? It's my latest project. A bit of a drive upstate, but worth the millions per acre price tag, I suppose. Don't tell Pepper, it's a surprise."

Tony bobbed his head. "Although I think she's starting to suspect something, I keep asking her if there's a particular type of grass she likes - she's into composting now, if you can believe it."

Loki laughed out loud, a reaction so foreign the alarm bells increased their clamoring in Tony's brain. 

"You alright? You're acting weird."

The tail ends of laughter dwindled to an abrupt stop. "Am I?"

He had seen this before on television, in one of the shows Thor made him watch whenever he was craving for company and had to settle for Loki's.

"Leading double lives, are we, Stark?" Loki said chidingly. "Keeping Stephen and the lovely Lady Pepper apart, now that is a smart move."

Tony's expression instantly changed into one of alarm.

The elevator doors suddenly opened, from which a harried-looking young woman exited. She began marching across the floor, unaware of the sinister figure lurking in the shadows behind her. 

"Mr Stark, I know you told me this was urgent but I had to wait till business hours to confirm the arrangement with our contact in Vienna."

She waved the bundle of papers in her hand. "Everything's good to go now. Here is the flight itinerary for both you and Doctor Strange, leaving the day after tomorrow - "

"Kathy, shut up." Tony leaped across the bar so fast he slid across the last few feet before grabbing his secretary's wrist and steered her toward a secret door behind the bar. "Get out of here. As fast as you can."

"Mr. Stark, w-what's going on? Is there something wro - " The elevator doors closed in her face before she could finish, and Tony was about to heave a sigh of relief when a flash of green caught the corner of his eye. 

He tried to dodge, but once again, Loki was too fast for him.

"Oh, f - " The hand wrapped around Tony's neck cut off his expletive prematurely.

A strange sense of deja vu washed over him; Tony had a strong feeling it had something to do with the fact that he was now dangling a few feet in the air, and that he could not breathe.

"Lok - " he sputtered. 

He knew he should at least make an attempt to activate the nanoparticles in his chest, but his hands retained too much muscle memory; they were too busy trying to dislodge Loki's fingers from around his throat. 

"I like my grass green too," he heard Loki whisper.

"What are you - " _talking about?_ Tony's pathetic excuse of a breath whistled in his ear as his eyes frantically tried to convey the words he could not say.

"Keep...off...the grass," Loki enunciated each word of his warning, heart and soul steeped in hate and despair and _desperation_.

_Do not take this one good thing from me, Stark._

Loki drilled his thumb harder into Tony's throat.

 _It is all I have_.

His eyes misted. _He is all I have_.

"I tried - " Tony gasped. "I wanted - tell you - "

Loki's brain was screaming at him to let go. Consumed by fury, his fingers were not obeying his command. 

"Loki!" Somebody's hand wrapped around his forearm and tried to wrench it free. "Loki, let him go!"

"Oh, I _will,_ " Loki said. "Once he is dead."

A stinging sensation began to burn through his vambrace where Stephen had grabbed him and sear his skin; Loki recognised it as the beginning of a restraining spell -

The thought of Stephen using magic against him filled him with rage, a rage Loki had not unleashed in a long time, certainly not since Mother's death.

But this time Loki screamed as something exploded within him, burning him up from the inside, erupting outward like a supernova.

He watched through red-tinted eyes as Stephen's form hurtled through the air like a rag doll, crashing into the glass enclosure Loki had admired and envied earlier.

He sank to his knees, even as Tony scurried away from him, shuffling on the floor like an insect. It was not for cover; instead, it was to get to the motionless figure lying against the wall at the far corner of the room.

"Strange!" he heard Tony croak.

"He's fine," Loki mumbled. He had not hurt Stephen. He would never hurt Stephen. 

Tony pointedly ignored the Asgardian and all the broken glass around him.

"Strange, wake up." Tony reached down to try to shake the man awake before common sense stopped him. "FRIDAY, call an ambulance."

From where Loki was crouched on all fours, he could see Stephen's legs moving, quite vigorously too. 

An overwhelming wave of relief washed over him like a tsunami; Loki could finally breathe. "He's fine."

Tony whipped his head around and gave Loki the most vicious look. Blood bathed one side of his face and trickled down his mottled neck.

"He's seizing, you idiot!" 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dun dun dun ~~
> 
> The bit about keeping off the grass was inspired by a great scene in Parade's End, the excellent BBC drama starring our dear Mr Benedict Cumberbatch.


End file.
